California Screaming
by Booster1
Summary: Veronica Mars meets some newcomers to Neptune, and finds that her safe little world has just gotten a lot more dangerous.
1. Wanted : New Sidekick

**Title: **California Screaming  
**Rating:** R  
**Setting:** Post-Chosen for the Buffyverse characters, and after Veronica Mars 1x15 – Ruskie Business.  
**Disclaimer:** Veronica Mars belongs to UPN and is smarter than me.  
**Summary:** Veronica Mars meets some newcomers to Neptune, and finds that her safe little world has just gotten a lot more dangerous.  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to lj userhjcallipygian for the look-over.

1: Wanted – New Sidekick

Welcome to Neptune High, home of the Haves and the Have-Nots.

Oh sure, that's just like other schools, you say, but this is Neptune and the gap is a little larger than normal. Here, either your parents are millionaires, or they work for the millionaires. As you might expect, that makes the normal social strata of high school even more extreme than usual.

As normal, the rich kids run the school, jocks and cheerleaders especially. Top of the heap are people like Duncan Kane (whose father is billionaire software developer Jake Kane) and Logan Echolls (the son of famous movie star Aaron Echolls).

A long time ago, we used to be friends.

* * *

Just over a year ago, I was Duncan Kane's girlfriend.

For unspecified reasons, he dumped me not long before his sister Lilly, my best friend, was murdered. Dad was the local sheriff, and became convinced that Jake Kane knew something about it. Jake goes on TV, weeps a lot about police tactics, and bingo! Instant recall election and Dad's sent packing. Mom leaves soon after, and my social life descends right after. Got to support Dad after all, but that makes me a social pariah at Neptune High.

Guess some of them only let me hang out because of Duncan and my father being the sheriff. Anyway, infodump over and that leaves me where I am now. Obsessed with finding who killed Lilly, and clearing Dad's name.

Obsessed? Yeah, I'm willing to use that term. Me? My name's Veronica Mars. And you do not want to piss me off.

* * *

It was the new big thing in all the newspaper.

Teen found dead on Triton Beach. Throat ripped out. Local community in mourning.

Well, some people mourned for Casey Drake, but not me. Well, okay; not much. She was a bitch when she was alive, even when I was part of the 'Inner Circle'. Now, normally I don't use air quotes, but that's just typical of Casey – melodrama always followed her around. Trust me, I'm rolling my eyes right now.

Casey had a rich father, a divorced mother and a tendency to play both of them off each other. Consequently, she was always showing up to school with the latest stuff, and the more expensive the better. Add in the tendency to sneer down her nose at you from twenty paces, and you got someone detested by the vast majority at Neptune High.

I was already interested in looking at her death because of the Lilly connections. Just over a year later, and Casey b had /b been one of the other girls at the sponsored car wash where I'd last seen Lilly alive. Lilly had told me she had a secret. I wondered whether she'd dropped any more hints to the other girls there. But hey not exactly the easiest subject to bring up to people who hate your guts now.

And Dad's new job as a private investigator didn't help either. Anyone in Neptune who's anyone used him to spy on their spouses, check out what they were doing – or spending. Something in the social cachet about having the old sheriff at their beck and call. Not to mention that he is damn good at it (aided and abetted by his loyal secretary and daughter, of course). Still, yet another reason for people at Neptune High to hate me.

So, Casey's death rose up on my private list of things to look into.

It got to the top of my list three days later when someone desecrated the grave and stole her body.

* * *

It was funny watching the police flocking around the grave the next day. I leaned on the side of my car from a nearby hill, talked to Wallace, and enjoyed the harassed look on Sheriff Lamb's face.

Wallace? I guess you'd call him my sidekick, though he hates that. My source for all school-based information, and probably a better friend than I deserve. Our roles were forever fixed the day I first met him and cut him down off the school flagpole. I'm the girl with the reputation, and he's still known for that incident.

"You know what?" I remarked casually in between snickers at Lamb's so-called policing. "Any chance you can get me Casey's files when we're back at school tomorrow?"

"Veronica Mars!" he said with assumed shock and clasped his chest. "Tell me this isn't the only reason you dragged me out on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I thought we were just going to hang out and laugh at the cops together."

"I like to think of that as more of a bonus question, Wallace," I said, rolling my eyes.

He pulled his bag out of the back of my car and just regarded me for a moment. "That all I am to you, Veronica? Your convenient source of info?"

"Stop busting my balls, Wallace," I said evenly. "You really not going to get me Casey's records tomorrow?"

"No way," Wallace said. Then he burst out laughing. "Man, girl – you should have seen your face!" Still chuckling, he fished inside his bag and pulled out a typical Neptune High file folder, marked Casey Drake. "I just happened to be doing some extra stuff for Miss Dent yesterday, so it was a piece of cake to copy this for you. Not that I'm saying you're getting predictable or anything, Veronica Mars," he smirked.

Honestly, it was so much easier before he grew a spine. Wonder if I can complain to the sidekicks union?

* * *

The rest of Sunday night I spent going through Casey's file. Bitch, yes, but it looks like she never did that much that got complained about – or had to be squashed at higher levels. Never underestimate the power of Daddy's money. About the only thing that stands out is a slight pattern of skipping Spanish several Thursday afternoons. Odd - because I remembered she was quite good at Spanish and liked it. Not the sort of class I could see her skipping unless she had a real good reason.

I wondered if she had somewhere else to be, and swung past Dad's office on the way into school Monday morning.

One of the nice things about Dad being a private investigator is the access to certain databases that the public normally don't even get a sniff of. Luckily, Dad was away at the moment chasing down yet another bail jumper, so he wouldn't mind me using it.

A quick look at Casey's parking permit gave me her car registration. Entering that into the system lets me see just how many parking tickets she's had recently. Bingo! Several recent Thursdays she was ticketed for parking too long. The actual location made me blink a bit. Not quite the spot I'd have expected someone of her social standing to even know about.

Fortunately, I know the neighbourhood. Weevil lives there.

* * *

Time for school, and time to find out who the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher is.

Slight in-joke around the school. Most of us have started to think the History teacher job is cursed. After Mr Rooks got fired for sleeping with one of his students, the next three fill-in teachers all came and went within one month. The first one turned up drunk on his second day, and was quickly fired. Number two got caught speeding in his second week in, and a police search of his car found drugs hidden in a side panel. And then there was poor Miss Farmer. Poor, poor Miss Farmer.

Anyone could have checked out her qualifications and found them false. I don't know i why /i Wallace keeps thinking it was me. Anyone could have tipped off the principal – particularly if they were pissed at only getting a C on their American Foreign Policy in the 60's and 70's paper. Um… that's theoretically, right? Move along, nothing to see here.

Anyway, bets were already being taken on how long the new guy would last. For some reason, no-one would let me bet. Sheesh – you plant one bong in Logan Echoll's locker, and everyone assumes you're a criminal mastermind. Still, at least I was in the first class with Newbie, and I could always get Wallace to place a bet for me.

The bell rang and we all scrambled inside quickly. I wasn't the only one curious. A deep voice came from the doorway, "Okay, everyone sit down." Oooo… nice first impression. Tall African-American, bald, nice goatee. And from the look on the face of Tracy Jenkins next to me, I'm not the only one in the class who thought the wrong teacher slept with his students.

"Good morning class," he started off with. "My name is Robin Wood, and I'll be your History teacher for a bit. See how long I last, shall we?" He puts his briefcase on the desk, and smiled.

"I should warn you that I was a principal before this, so don't think that anything you come up with is something I don't know how to deal with. In fact, this will be definitely a lot more relaxed than my last school."

He pulled out a seating chart, quickly ran a finger along it, and glanced up – directly at me. "Not to mention all the warnings I've had from other staff members."

Oh, crud.Busted _already_.

End part 1


	2. Reputation

2: Reputation

The rest of History went without further incident, although I'm positive Mr. Wood kept his eye on me. Some times your reputation works in your favor, sometimes it doesn't. Thankfully, the bell rang as I was getting all morbid.

As I crossed the halls, I saw Todd McArthur was back in school. This surprised me for a couple of reasons, the main one being that he had been Casey's boyfriend. Sure, he wasn't around on Friday, but that I expected. Dad always told me the first thing the police do with a suspicious death is look at the boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/delete as applicable. I'd just figured Todd as being away from school for a couple of days more.

Todd was a jock. One of the more successful jocks of Neptune High, in that he was actually serious about what he did and didn't just wear the letter jacket for the hell of it. Casey the cheerleader (I did mention that, right? Because Casey certainly had the habit of mentioning it) and he made one of the more golden couples of Neptune High, though mainly on the sports side. I knew them to talk to back before my fall from social grace. Now, neither of them would give me a word.

Well, Casey had an excuse now, being dead.

Todd looked upset, though something still seemed off. Admittedly, I was drawing on my fairly limited experience of grief, but it was almost like he was trying too hard. I saw all the commiserating looks he received and the soft touches of sympathy from his friends, acquaintances and random passing staff members as he walked through the halls.

I moved him a few notches up my mental must-look-into list, and headed off to apply more pressure to Wallace. If he even thought about giving me a hard time over Todd's file….

As I rounded a corner, I bumped into Jennifer Johnson, aka "JJ" as she wants to be known. JLo has a lot to answer for. Anyhow, I literally bumped into her, as her eyes were firmly fixed ahead of me. She glanced at me, thought about saying something rude, and just hurried off instead. See, reputations do work for you sometimes.

Just out of sheer nosiness and curiosity, I turned to see just who or what she was intent on following. It turned out to be Todd McArthur.

Interesting. Casey was the jealous type, and hadn't let any single female within meters of Todd. JJ had been one of the more recent victims of Casey's public screaming matches. Like everyone else in Neptune High, I'd just written that off as Casey being paranoid.

Maybe not.

* * *

The rest of school dragged by. After a quick forage through the clippings file at the student newspaper, Wallace was duly leaned on. The little weasel wouldn't promise me anything until I declared he was a veritable Sex God out loud to the next passing person. I reminded him about my taser, and made vague insinuations about picking my moment carefully. Like the next time he was talking to Georgia, to pluck one example completely out of thin air.

He folded.

I hate to keep using the taser card, but sidekicks must be abused regularly. Otherwise they start wanting their own gig. With a warm glow of accomplishment, I drove over to Weevil's neighbourhood.

* * *

Weevil's desire in life seems to be Professional Lovable Biker with Heart of Gold.

Or at least that's the side that he shows to me. Apart from a slight tendency to go off on me if I seem to be presuming on him, we're solid. Mutual deals have suited us in the past, and of course his beloved grandmother adores me for getting him out of jail that one time.

I stared at his bald head and moustache for a while when I got there and tried to imagine him with a goatee. Then tried to imagine Robin Wood with that moustache and leather jacket.

Thankfully, Eli "Weevil" Navarro broke me out of this with a well timed "Hello? Earth to Mars?"

"Yup," I said, "That's one I've never heard before. In all my short existence on this wonderful world of ours, no-one has ever, once, come up with that line."

"You're the one looking for me, Mars," he reminded me, stiffly folding his arms.

I shrugged. "True enough, Weevil. You know about Casey Drake, of course."

He just looked at me. Okaaaaaay.

I pulled out the photo clipping from the school newspaper library. Couple of months back, they'd sent me out to take a few general photos of the school. Mainly before and after pictures for the great graffiti clean-up, but I remembered taking a few of the parking lot. This photo had Casey's car in it.

"Ever see this car around, Weevil?" I asked. "Would have been a little out of place in this area. Just wondered if it stuck in your memory."

He grinned suddenly. "Yeah, we don't get many pink cars over here. I remember seeing it parked over by the gym on Goddard and Seventh a couple of times coming back from auto class. Me and the boys did wonder about taking it for a little ride, but somebody had already ticketed it by then."

Interesting. One of the things Casey had boasted about last fall was the brand new home gym her father had installed. She had made sure everyone at school knew that she could do all her exercise at home, in comfort, in air conditioning. If she was in this neighbourhood, then it definitely wasn't to use the facilities.

Neptune doesn't do ghettos, but this was probably the closest we got to one. Low quality housing, crammed together, and mainly occupied by people employed by the rich half of Neptune. Not to mention the occasional bad ass biker woman living next door.

Weevil winced slightly as Estelle's voice rose in a shrill shriek from outside. We had one of those shared moments of perfect understanding and went out on the porch to watch the fireworks together.

Weevil's neighbours were known to Dad from back when he was the local Sheriff. Part of the reason why I never mentioned my visits to Weevil. Still, I remembered growing up listening to Dad talking about his day at work to Mom – when she was still around, that was. Estelle Diaz was a name he'd mentioned several times. Car theft, shoplifting, credit card fraud, drunk and disorderly – you name it, she'd probably been arrested for it.

Fortunately for her, she had Cliff McCormack, shyster extraordinaire, on her side. Dad used to come home, and swear at the sheer volume of ways Cliff had found to get her charges dropped. Eventually, though, her luck ran out, and she'd been sent to Stockton for two years.

She got released from prison a couple of months back; she'd moved right back to Neptune and back into her old housing. It made coming down to Weevil's more interesting than before – she had a temper that could erupt any moment, no fear of anyone or anything, and a reputation for kicking asses. Personally, I was learning more of the interesting Spanish words from just hanging around.

And Dad? If by some strange co-incidence you're reading this, then technically, I** was** studying Spanish. Therefore, I cannot be grounded. Or at the very least, I have a good chance on appeal.

Anyway, Estelle's current target was sitting on a rather nice motorbike at the front of Estelle's place. It had to be nice, because Weevil whistled softly. Probably at the bike, but who can tell for certain with Weevil? Estelle was swearing her head off at the rider, who was all wrapped up in leathers and a black helmet. Most of it went by pretty fast, but I managed to follow the basic flow: how dare this new rider park their bike where Estelle would leave hers. This was her spot and no damn puta would dare stay there if he knew what was good for him.

The rider pulled her helmet off and shook out her long, dark, curly hair.

"Faith!" exclaimed Estelle, and immediately shut up. In fact, she took a step backwards. I blinked. Weevil blinked. Most of the watching neighbourhood blinked.

This definitely wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Puta?" enquired Faith, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I... did not mean you, of course," stuttered Estelle, losing cool points by the syllable. "I didn't realise it was you, Faith. I'm sorry."

Another first in what was turning out to be a very odd week. Luckily, Dad was back tomorrow, though there was no chance he'd believe me. Estelle Diaz said sorry?

"Got a cig?" asked Faith, getting off her motorcycle in a flowing motion, leathers creaking. The neighbourhood held its breath again. Estelle never shared.

"Keep the pack," Estelle said, throwing it over. And the crowd would have gone wild, if a) they didn't want to miss a thing, and b) Estelle wouldn't be looking for someone to take her frustrations out on later. No sense in drawing attention to yourself, after all.

Me? I moved forward to get a better look.

Faith unzipped her leather jacket to show a grey T-shirt underneath it, with what looked like some sort of message hand written on it. Sticking a cigarette in her mouth, she just looked at Estelle. "Lighter?"

Estelle nodded and tossed that over too. By now the sheer volume of surprises had rendered the watchers incapable of surprise.

"Just passing through, and decided to stay a while. That cool?" she said, taking a deep draw. "See the sights, that sort of shit." For some reason, I could just feel her looking at me and Weevil through her hair. "Scenery seems pretty nice from where I'm standing right now."

And with an almost predatory gait, she crossed over to Estelle, and urged her inside. "Let's catch up on old times, yeah?" she said, almost purring. Estelle just swallowed and went inside.

Weevil let out a soft breath. I remembered to breathe. Faith flicked her eyes around the people watching one more time. "Don't touch the bike," she announced to all and sundry, and flicked the now-smoked cigarette butt up in the air.

It landed at my feet. I looked at it, then looked back up at her. "Be seeing you," she winked, and went indoors.

Now that's an entrance.

End part two


	3. Back To School

3: Back to School

Not much you can do after a show stopper like that, so I thanked Weevil and drove over to the gym on Goddard and Seventh. No luck there -- Tim's Gym was closed.

Honestly,**who** comes up with these names? Still not as bad as Kumquat Mae, the vegetarian restaurant down by the beach, or the Junk and Disorderly shop. The paint was peeling off the door, there was a general air of run down, and there couldn't have been that much natural light inside, judging from the painted-over skylights. Huh. Not unusual for this neighbourhood, but why would Casey be around here? Heck, she wouldn't have been caught dead around here. Literally. Triton Beach was a good three miles from here, in the highly expensive estates area.

I pulled my camera out of the car and took a few photos of the gym. Hey, you never know… I glanced at my watch and drove away.

I still had a few things to do at school.

* * *

Those things being a) Abuse Wallace, b) Abuse Wallace some more, and c) watch the jocks. Wallace, under protest, came along with me to the sports field. Fortunately for me, and not so for Wallace, the basketball team had finished early. We scrambled up to the top of the bleachers and made sure we had a good view of the regular Monday training that was coming to an end. I did, of course, have my camera with me.

"Girl, just what are we doing here?" moaned Wallace, obviously still pissed about the taser threat.

"Aha!" I said, holding one finger up in protest (and a vain attempt to shut him up). "That would be part of my cunning plan."

Wallace looked at me. "Your cunning plans ain't been working out so good recently. This one in particular does not sound so hot."

"If…," I interjected, "If my source inside the school administration b had /b been able to get me the information I wanted –"

Wallace frowned. "Oh, don't be going there, Veronica Mars. You know my momma likes me having that job, and I'm not gonna do anything too blatant – even for you, girl."

Weasel. But a weasel with a good point. His mother's coming around to me, but we're not there yet. So naturally I changed the subject.

"Whatever. I still need to know what car Todd McArthur has. Casey, crazy bitch that she might have been, had one honking big Achilles heel. You're new – you never experienced the suffering that could occur."

Wallace still didn't look too impressed. I carried on regardless.

"She was one of the single most jealous people in Neptune High. Todd even looked at another single girl in her presence, everyone would hear about it. If she was down in Weevil's neighbourhood, odds are good that she was following Todd."

I focused the camera in on the guys on the practice field. There they were, all warming down from their training. And just what sort of track star shows up to practice four days after his girlfriend's been killed, and one day after her body's been stolen?

"Todd's the type of guy who might use that gym. Way I understand it, his family wasn't always that rich," I mused to Wallace as I took several long distance shots of Todd, just in case. Now we just had to wait for them to finish and see which car Todd went to.

* * *

We waited.

And waited.

Todd and the coach seemed to be going through an awful lot of training and discussion together. As the various after-school activities ran down, the parking lot emptied. At the rate things went, I might as well have just photographed all the cars left and narrowed it down from there. Still, I was determined to have a picture of Todd with his car to take back to Weevil again.

Wallace got bored and went home. Next time, I'll share some of my worst stake-out stories with him. Do you realise just how difficult it is for a girl to wee into a bottle?

There was a brief interesting moment when Logan Echolls walked past.

Logan, Logan, Logan. How do I put this? Logan is a jerk. A rude, arrogant jerk, who spent the last year not only being the single biggest pain in my ass, but generally being unpleasant to most people in his vicinity. Not to mention smashing my headlights with a tire iron. Not that I bear grudges or anything.

Still, he b was /b Lilly's boyfriend before she died and the four of us (me, Lilly, Duncan and Logan) did have some great times together. Okay, Lilly and Logan were broken up when she died, and okay, maybe some of that was my fault, but still… One whole year of put-downs and rudeness and arrogance can't just be wiped out overnight.

On the other hand, this was a guy who'd broken down and cried on me when his mother died recently. One of the single most awkward moments of my life. And hey – he'd had some trust in me to ask me to find her. Logan Echolls – a mystery wrapped in an enigma, covered in rich boy my-father-can-get-me-out-of-anything arrogance.

And yes, I use 'arrogance' a lot when talking about Logan. It's so perfectly him.

Today, Logan being Logan, he said nothing, just made a rude gesture towards me with his hand and carried on walking. Obviously making fun of my inner turmoil.

Jerk.

* * *

It was almost dark by the time Todd headed home. There were only a few cars left, and my snap 'em all plan was looking better and better. Still, I really should have guessed the black Escalade was his. That's the thing about the newly rich families – they tend to buy big when they strike it lucky. There's almost an inverse relationship between the flashy extravagance of the car and just how recent the money windfall is.

Happily perched at the top of the bleachers, I managed to snap several photos of Todd getting into his car. As his Escalade drove off, I noticed a blue Lexus pull out from a fairly shaded part of the parking lot and follow him. Interestingly, I hadn't seen anyone go near that one, which made it likely that whoever was driving had been waiting inside all this time.

I snapped another couple of shots on the off chance of it being something interesting. And then congratulated myself when I recognised JJ driving it.

JJ following Todd earlier today? Could be coincidence. Twice in the same day? Something hinky for sure.

* * *

I just needed to grab a last few things from my locker, so I headed back inside Neptune High. If I was going to get that stupid Politics essay done, I was going to need the really thick textbook. The one that could keep a door shut by itself. It's generally easier to leave it in my locker until I need it. Even Wallace wised up after carrying it for me a couple of times.

"No, no… we've just got here, after all. No firm idea on who made the call yet, but it's got to be someone local." Robin Wood, the new History teacher, had just come round the corner, speaking loudly on his cell phone. Naturally, this was at the point where I'd just dropped that damn textbook into my shoulder bag, so I greeted him with a graceful stagger to the left.

Way to impress the new teacher, Veronica.

He just looked at me and smiled. "Of course, what I really need is the expert knowledge of a professional finder-out. I'll speak to you later, Giles."

He hung up, and smiled again at me. Okay, I was cutting him some slack for being new, and good looking, but that didn't extend to laughing at my uncoordinated self.

"Miss Mars, isn't it?" he asked, politely ignoring my swinging shoulder bag. "I understand you're a person who gets things done around here."

I blushed. God help me, I blushed.

"Well," I stammered, "My Dad's a private investigator, and I might have, you know, picked up a few things from him." And I giggled.

Inside, I was cringing and hitting my head against the nearest blunt object. I'm Veronica Mars, dammit! I do not do weak – and I especially do**not** do giggly.

"I'll walk you to your car if you don't object, Miss Mars," he said, falling into step beside me. "After all, it's getting dark out there now, and you never know who's out there."

Awww… over-protective, much? Minus point right there, buster. Still, it would give me a chance to pump him. I mean, find out more about him. Shut up.

"You have quite the reputation among the staff, Miss Mars," he said, as we headed down the corridor. "Most of which is fairly impressive for someone your age."

Ding! Another minus point right there. Still, I supposed there was no harm in making small talk. "Neptune High must be quite a change from your last job, what with no longer being on a principal's pay. Where were you before?"

The side of his mouth quirked in a cute way. Bad Veronica – no noticing the adorable goatee. "Heh. They did mention your insatiable curiosity." He glanced at me, suddenly intense. "No, we've just come down from Cleveland. See what we can find around here."

Whatever he was looking for in my face wasn't there. Was I meant to react to Cleveland or something? Some sort of school for disgruntled ex-principals? Me – I was more concerned about the 'we' bit.

"We?" And the normal incisive Veronica Mars wit and breezy manner had officially left the building.

Robin (when did I start thinking of him just as Robin? That wasn't good) had the grace to look abashed. "Oh, yes, a friend of mine decided to take a trip down with me, and see what it was like, too. She's thinking of moving down here for good, depending on things."

"She?" Ah, the world famous Veronica Mars one word questioning technique. I so needed that brick wall to hit my head against right then.

Thankfully, at this point, we had reached the parking lot. "Just a friend of mine," said Robin easily. "This your car?"

I flushed. Okay, it wasn't as spotless looking as the vast majority of the cars that normally parked there, but it was mine, and more importantly, it worked. I just hoped he didn't see the spot where Backup had drooled on the back seat.

"Yes, it is," I snapped. "Thank you so much for escorting me off the school property, b Mr. /b Wood. It was highly appreciated." I climbed in and slammed the door somewhat loudly. Petty, but you have to take these small things when you can. I beamed up at him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going home now."

He stepped back and smiled as I reversed the car out of its spot. "Take care out there, Miss Mars. There are some strange people out after dark these days."

No kidding, Sherlock. And in some ways, really creepy. Ewwww.

As I drove home, I could have sworn I saw Casey Drake over by the Sunset Pines Motel on Jordan. I shook my head and swore to get more sleep. I see dead people; how much more I Sixth Sense /I can you get? Sheesh.

* * *

That night, while I struggled with my Politics essay, there was another attack. And another death. 


	4. Looking Down

4: Looking Down

The local newspaper had _some_ details next morning. Two girls were attacked last night, and one of them was killed. The other was in the hospital in a coma and not expected to last the day. Sheriff Lamb was quoted as saying that the public shouldn't panic, the police force was investigating several significant leads, and an arrest was expected shortly. Personally, I had my doubts – that sounded way too articulate for Lamb.

Neither victim was named, but I had no doubt that the old Neptune High grapevine would have that information. But the most interesting thing in the whole report? Whatever had happened last night had occurred in an alley that ran behind the Sunset Pines Motel. You know – the one I could have sworn I saw Casey by last night. Curiouser and curiouser.

I poured through the four-page feature, which to my displeasure contained no photos other than Lamb's election shot. Halfway through, as I tried not to spill cereal on it, Dad came back. Early.

"Mmmmph?" I said, mouth full of Lucky Charms (yes, I like them; sue me), suddenly aware that I was still in my PJs, and hadn't tidied the apartment like I was meant to.

"Hey, hon," he said as he kissed me on the cheek and expertly stole the newspaper. "Shouldn't you be dressed for school by now?"

I swear there are times when I could cheerfully kill him. With an expressive sniff, I took my bowl of Lucky Charms, turned and walked to my bedroom. Dignity is important in situations like these.

I came out, fully dressed and ready to rumble. My demeanour was spoilt only by having to go back for the now-empty bowl. Dad barely glanced up as I advanced on him. "We really must get you some matching pyjamas at some point, hon," he offhandedly commented.

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. "You're back early, Dad," I eventually said, mildly. Tough to get a good rant going after you lose your opening line.

"Hmm?" said Dad, still absent-mindedly scanning the paper. "Oh, yes, picked up Elizabeth Marks just outside San Diego last night. Her and that Alex Harrison were at it again – talk about an abused husband." He shook his head sadly, put down the paper, and regarded me. "Anyhow, when I heard about this guy attacking some more young women, I thought you might appreciate me being around the place a bit more."

Awwww. But I still didn't forgive him for the PJs crack.

* * *

I had time to spare before class started today, so naturally I couldn't resist driving past the Sunset Pines Motel. Lamb had his guys out in force around the crime scene, keeping the crowd of onlookers and gawpers away. I spotted Deputy Leo looking pretty spiffy in his uniform, but decided not to wave. 

Now, what I really wanted was a better look, but there was no way I was going to get past the police line. Sometimes it's handy to have nearly every policeman in Neptune to know what I look like.

This wasn't one of those occasions.

Now, one of the fun facts about us poor humans is that we always tend to think in two dimensions. Every way of getting to the alley on the ground blocked? Seek higher ground, Veronica Mars. There were some uniforms around the Sunset Pines Motel, but that still left the building on the other side of the alley. I grabbed my camera and went for a look.

The building turned out to be mainly small offices, with an office supplies place as the main display. Most of the occupants, it turned out, happened to be in the crowd of onlookers. Highlight of their week, I guessed. I ignored them all and headed round the back, out of sight of everyone.

I was looking for a way onto the roof if possible, and the gods were smiling on me. A single door at the back stood open, with a staircase going up beyond it. I grinned. "Honestly, officer – I was just passing by, and I thought I heard someone call for help," I rehearsed. "So naturally I went to look."

* * *

The stairs were steep, and there were a **lot **of them. It was all worth the panting and puffing, though, when I reached the top. A nice flat, open rooftop with an even nicer view towards the alley. I ducked down, readied my camera and crept to the edge. 

I was somewhat disappointed with the view. Sure, CSI makes it look all clue bags and chalk outlines and interesting, but this was just plain sad. There were a couple of deputies standing around, and someone scraped something off the wall around five or six feet up. I took a couple of pictures just in case, and tried to focus in further on what they were looking at.

And then I realised it had to be blood. At head height on a wall. How much force and violence did that take? How much savagery?

Suddenly I didn't feel so good. My head swam, and I felt like I had when I'd seen Lilly's body. I turned around and slumped against the parapet. Apart from Lilly, I'd never come near a murder before -- the closest thing was the guy Dad shot in our apartment complex. Was I doing the right thing? Did I really want to go looking for someone who could do something like that? Hell of a step up from looking into minor stuff for Dad, or snapping surveillance photos at midnight.

My musings were interrupted by a cigarette butt landing at my feet. Second time in two days. I looked up. Same person this time as well.

Faith stood there, leaning against the stairwell, arms folded, and blew a flume of smoke into the air. If I'd thought about it on the way up, then I would have realised that someone opened the stairs door. I gave myself a minus point and tried to pull myself together. Anyone who can make Weevil's psycho neighbour behave is worth being careful around.

"So, saw your big entrance yesterday. What do you do for an encore?" Guess I don't do careful all that well. Or tactful.

Faith tilted her head and straightened up from her pose. She'd lost the leather jacket from when I'd last seen her, and was just wearing the leather trousers and grey t-shirt. "You know," she said coming towards me, "you might want to be a bit more careful in this town." She smirked. "Bad things happen to girls around here," she said, and nodded towards the alley behind me. "And here you come, merrily tripping along, camera ready, little Miss Nancy Drew."

I looked at her, raised the camera and gave her my cheesiest smile. "Smile for the camera, please," I said sweetly, and took her photo. "And that's little Miss Veronica Mars, if you don't mind. _Some_of us still have reputations we'd like to keep."

Faith stared at me for a moment, then smiled broadly. "You're short, you're sassy, you're blond," she said, shaking her head still with that amused grin. "There is no way in hell I'm calling you anything but V."

She sauntered over to me and stood over me, still smiling. "You know, you're nosy enough, and we got the same attitude problem, V. I'll definitely be seeing you around."

She walked to the far side of the roof, across from the crime scene alley, and sprung up onto the parapet. Looking back at me, she flashed a wide grin, almost savage. "But I mean it – bad things are gonna happen. You watch yourself, V."

And with that, she threw herself off the side.

I froze in shock for a moment before I scrambled to my feet and raced to that side of the building. Fully expecting to see an injured woman three stories down, I looked over the edge.

And there Faith was, casually standing on the ground next to her motorcycle. No fire escapes, nothing to hang onto, and she wasn't even out of breath. She simply waved up at me, swung her leg over the saddle and pulled on her helmet. I just stood there, mouth open as she roared off.

"Okay," I eventually said, "looks like you can do good exits, too."

* * *

I still had a little time before school, so I decided to drive over to the office and download the photos I'd taken. I needed some hard copies of Todd and his car before I saw Weevil again. And Faith. There was something definitely going on with that girl. 

I'm Veronica Mars. No-one scares me off_anything_.

It's a recent change, but something I've learned about myself is that the best way to get me to dig my feet in and be stubborn on something is to tell me not to do it. Unfortunately, knowing your own faults does not automatically give you a pass.

First Robin Wood. Now, this Faith tells me to be careful.

I don't care. Something's going on in Neptune, and I'm going to find out what. Whatever it takes.

* * *

My eyes narrowed as I pulled in and parked outside the office of Mars Investigations. Dad's car was there as I expected, but there was an official looking one and a police car that looked very familiar. 

Being as quiet as I could, I walked into the office. Yes, eavesdropping is a bad thing, and I was certainly not doing that; I was merely not wanting to disturb anyone wishing to consult Dad. Anything I heard was purely accidental.

The first voice I heard was Sheriff Lamb protesting something, before he was over-ruled by a voice I'd heard before. A few more steps forward and I recognised the Mayor's voice. I like this Mayor. If he continues hiring Dad, I might even vote for him.

There was a general stirring of chairs, and Lamb came out, thunder-faced. Pulling up at the sight of me, he snarled, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

I smiled sweetly up at him. "Free period," I said, fluttering my eyelashes. "But it's sweet of you to care about my grades."

"4.0 grade point average," came a proud paternal voice from the side. "Keeps all the teachers off my back whenever they need to speak to me."

"Hi, Dad," I said, and kissed him on the cheek. "Hi, Mister Mayor. Hiring my Dad again?"

The Mayor just smiled perfunctly at me, and turned back to Dad. "Good to have you on board, Keith. Keep me or my office fully informed, will you?"

"I will," Dad promised, shaking hands. I couldn't help but notice he didn't even attempt to try and shake Lamb's. Good.

As the two of them left the office, I sat down at my desk and flashed Dad a great big wide smile. "Are you and Lamb going after another serial killer? Because this time you really need to get danger money thrown in."

"I didn't think Lamb looked_ that_murderous," Dad said dryly. "But no. It's not about those dead girls, though it is slightly related, I suppose."

"Awww," I pouted, and lost most of my interest. I pulled the flash card from my camera and slotted it into my computer's card reader. While I downloaded the pictures, I turned back to Dad. "So? What do they want you to look into this time?"

Dad reappeared from his office, carrying a file. "You know, Veronica," he said, "I think the Mayor mightappreciate you using his name occasionally when he comes out of his way to visit here."

I looked up from my computer. "When I actually remember what it is, I might use it more. Come on, spill!"

Dad sighed, then ruefully smiled at me. "Okay. What they would like me to do is look into a number of kids that have run away from home recently. Lamb and the department are a little stretched with the murders, and some of the kids are from families with money."

"In other words," I decoded, "something actually has to be done about it, and the Mayor has to be seen doing something in order not to lose votes."

"Precisely," said Dad. He perched on the edge of my desk. "It shouldn't be too bad – some of the kids have been seen still around in Neptune, mainly hanging around nightclubs or driving around at night. I just have to find them and persuade them to go home."

He dropped the file he was holding on my desk. "Of course, it also means that I have to leave some of my other current cases on hold. Unless, say, someone was to do some basic legwork for me – in between getting her homework done!"

Ha ha. I picked up the folder and looked at it. "And this would be…?" I enquired.

"Mrs Swanson, the Baptist minister's wife, wants me to look into this new shop that's opened," Dad explained. "Apparently, she's very concerned that it might lead to the 'moral degradation of the local community'. It's just a look over the shop and see if there's anything funny about it that she can kick up a stink about."

I rolled my eyes. It was always fun working for the ultra-Christians.

"Madison Magic, eh? Should be a piece of cake."

End part four


End file.
